


There is no smile of an angel without the wrath of God

by muusan



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon, Sweet/Hot, Vignette, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29221290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muusan/pseuds/muusan
Summary: "I meant, come with me to the surface."
Relationships: Megaera/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	There is no smile of an angel without the wrath of God

His foot slides on the silk and he almost falls off the edge of the bed. He really ought to get himself a bigger one, with the new circumstances and all.

His tunic lays crumpled across the room, same as her chiton and their pauldrons, all scattered in artless disarray. His laurels are probably burning a new hole in the rug and even that evil thing that holds her hair up and makes her look all regal and unattainable is undone, discarded — a solid victory for him.

He thrusts harder, with passion, with intent and Meg throws her head back, her mouth opens in a silent cry. The tendons in her neck stand out and he bites them a little, mouths at them, losing himself in lust, as the heels of her feet dig into the back of his thighs.

 _More_ is what that means.

This position that they find themselves in after a very satisfying round of sparring is not entirely new, but new enough that he yearns for every little detail, listens hungrily to every sensation in his body, unable to sate his appetite. He presses closer, pins her tighter against the frictionless sheets, willing to feel as much of her skin on his as he can. Meg moans softly, her nails dig deliciously into his shoulders that he finally — _finally_ — filled out, and the little pinprick of pain travels in a shiver up his spine.

Meg has always been something between a dear friend and the apple of his eye, a mentor, a protector, a partner, and now she is a whole new lot of things that he never thought she would become — an ardent lover, a skilled seductress, a true goddess, fearsome and demanding.

She makes him work for it, of course, for every sigh, every sharp intake of breath, every bit of her naked skin he is allowed to see and touch, but he wouldn't have it any other way. It's exhilarating and besides, he is steadily gaining on her, taking, conquering, learning her body and mind in these sweet-sweet minutes turned hours that they spend here, in his room.

Don't get him wrong. He would gladly do something else, like lay in bed all day and feed her pom seeds, watch them disappear between her brightly colored lips, or maybe pour nectar over her breasts and lick it all off drop by drop, but for now, this is more their scene, and he is not complaining. Not at all. 

He wants her to moan his name in that broken whispery voice of hers that drives him absolutely mad, but she doesn't. He hasn't earned that privilege yet, but that only means he is going to try harder next time. One day he will be so good that she will, he will keep her on the precipice with his fingers, tongue, and cock for so long she will beg him for relief. He is nothing if not tenacious, and they have all eternity. For now, it is enough that when he kisses her lips she answers him in kind, and when they are so close they breathe each other's air, she looks right at him with her foggy, half-lidded eyes. 

Meg has beautiful eyes, golden and sparkling like finest jewels. She also has wonderfully fleshy thighs. She can kill with those thighs, can break his neck, can suffocate him, and tries to do just that every time they spar, but now they are framing his sides, squeezing him, pliantly letting him feel hard muscle under the give of smooth skin when he takes hold of them. 

He is not too proud to admit that his body learned to anticipate these encounters, and he gets a little distracted and hot under the collar before he even enters the sparring chamber. Whatever, he has gotten so much better with the sword lately that he and Meg are still in a balance, in a stalemate, in the perfect sweetest spot of the fight, when neither party is overpowered and things can go either way. 

The headboard is savagely bashing the wall, but anyone who happens to be daft enough to burst in here to see what the ruckus is all about will get an eyeful they deserve because the two of them are not stopping. Not even if Father himself tried to tear them apart. 

He props himself up, rolls his hips into her quickly and fluidly, just the way she craves it, judging by the way her hands slide up and down his biceps. She is pale, almost luminous, her skin doesn't get sweaty or ruddy with blood like his, but her cunt is of the same bright color as her mouth. He can't resist looking, watching himself disappear in her soft and dark core, where she is soaking, snug, and hotter than the fires of Asphodel.

 _Ugh, darkness, how is it so good?_

Heavy warmth gathers below his waist, a telltale sign that he won't last much longer, but he hasn't gotten her there yet. He has not seen her thrash and rip the sheets, has not felt her mark up his posterior and clench unmercifully around his cock yet this time and he wants to. Usually, it's a matter of pride, but for him, it's a form of worship, a way to show his adoration that she happens to accept, and he knows exactly what to do.

His hands look so dark and big against her when he sits back on his heels, seizes her by the waist, pulls her in. He thrusts deeper, hungrier, taking every part of her that she allows, as his cock throbs and his mind goes clouded with a single insistent thought of _in-in-in_. He dispels the last bits of control and lets his body have all of it, drink its fill, because her hand sneaks between them and her fingers dip into her folds to caress that little nub of pure pleasure and it takes only a few more breaths before she arches like a drawn bow and contracts so hard he swears he goes blind for a few moments there. His own release floods him like the red waters of Styx, swallowing him whole and drowning him in its violent heat. 

He falls on her with an exhausted moan and hides his face in her hair. He won the fight, but it is clear that in this room she will always bring him to his knees. 

They lay like this — debauched, still joined, sated for the time being — until he kisses her deeply and soundly on the lips. It's a trade-off, she does not care for any romance, but he knows she won't deny him after such a performance, so he takes a mile, slides his fingers in her silky hair, and just watches her face while still so close. 

"Come with me," he whispers. It just sorts of slips out, like a sword from too sweaty palms. 

Megaera lifts one eyebrow sardonically, contemplates her answer and he can guess a hint of a smile in her expression — that's as open as she ever gets. 

"I thought I just did," she offers tentatively. He smiles despite himself — it's simply too enjoyable to hear her say he did well. Well, he interprets it as her saying he did well, all in all with that halo of softness around her features this conclusion is not too far fetched. 

"I meant, come with me to the surface." 

Meg frowns. Lifts her hand. Carefully threads her fingers in his damp hair. 

"I fear I might have hit you on the head too hard. Or perhaps, our last encounter was too strenuous for you."

He bats her hand away and rolls off her, stretches gloriously on cold crumpled sheets. Every muscle in his body sings with delight, and he would have liked to bask in the afterglow for another moment or two, but well, he has already said it. 

"I'm serious. I'm going to the surface."

Meg eyes him curiously as he surveys the room in the aftermath of their activities. His chausses are hanging off his favorite skull, and her wing blew out half the candles when he threw it somewhere behind himself in his impatient attempt to undress her faster. He should really install more light in here. 

Do you know what else would brighten up the room? A mirror. A giant, ornate mirror, that he would place right beside the bed so that he could watch her face when he takes her from behind. Or maybe, she could watch them both when he puts his mouth between her legs. Something tells him, she would not mind one bit. 

"I’m sure Lord Hades was delighted to hear the news," Meg says finally. She is dodging, yet again, like all the previous times when he brought it up — no _yes_ or _no_ , no lectures on his disobedience, no support of his cause, not even a _not my concern_. Just jokes, and riddles, and enigmatic silence.

"He can't keep me here," he can’t. Not forever, not with the effort he puts into his strength, speed, and footwork.

“Tsch… yes, he can. And he will.”

“Not if you go with me.” 

Her face is expressionless when she looks at him again, but there is hesitation in her eyes. As if for a moment she is actually considering it, or at least considering giving him some definite answer.

“Sadly, not everyone can be you, Zagreus,” dodging again, he is a little disappointed. Someone like Meg has no reason to hide behind fancy words. “I cannot simply defy my Master."

"Your Master ordered us to train in the sparring chamber, but I didn't hear you object just now." 

It comes out harsher than he meant it. Meg purses her lips, resolutely swings her legs off the bed, and moves to stand, effortlessly avoiding his hand that tries to catch her and keep her with him.

“I'm sorry, Meg. That was uncalled for,” he usually values his ability to speak plainly, but sometimes it still gets the better of him.

“I'm not offended,” she picks up the evil thing and a moment later it is back in her hair with an equally evil click. “I merely have other commitments.”

"No, you don't. It's your time off." 

He frowns, as she makes a curt, disapproving chuckle. 

"It's rather presumptuous even for a Prince of the Underworld, to think I have nothing else to do, but you." 

The change from afterglow to whatever this is is so fast he almost gets a whiplash, which should not be unexpected. He opts to stay silent for now, to burrow his cheek in the pillow and watch her dress herself, bend methodically for an item after an item, and put them all in order. From her sandals to the belt to the tiara. It’s not as exciting as the opposite, but still delightful. Besides, when Cerberus buries his nose in his pillow and looks at people with that hurt expression, they tend to coo and do anything to get back into his good graces. Maybe, the same will work for him. 

It doesn’t. Meg slips on her wing, which unfurls menacingly at the touch of its owner, throws a single unreadable glance in his direction, and turns to leave, but then suddenly stops, having already put her hand to the heavy doorknob.

"Whatever you decide, Zagreus, your family, and responsibility is and will always be here. The sooner you stop running from yourself the better."

He is not running from anything, why does everyone keep saying that? On the contrary, he is running towards something: towards resolution, towards inner peace. Towards the truth of his emerald green eye, that was hidden from him for so long.

“It's my mother,” he sits up. “What in the name of Hades do you expect me to do?" 

She falls silent for a few long moments and when she speaks there is no anger in her voice — only poorly disguised sorrow and grief and bitterness. 

"You will do what you have to. And you will get what is coming." 

The door shuts heavily behind her and he drops back onto the pillows. It’s alright, it’s not the first time and not the last, they kiss, they spar, they quarrel, they ride each other halfway into oblivion — it’s all a part of it. And whatever she says, she is not going to stand in his way of doing something so right, he is sure of it.

He can see it in her eyes when she thinks he is not looking. 

And this time _will not_ be the last. 

He lays in bed and stares at the ceiling until the laurels burn the whole rug to ashes.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from "Heartache every moment" by HIM.
> 
> Also, for some unknown reason, I listened to the rock version of "Porn Star Dancing" by My Darkest Days unholy amount of times while writing this.
> 
> Leave a comment and make my day <3


End file.
